


His Touch

by barakitten



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:54:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barakitten/pseuds/barakitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankie just wants some affection. Gerard is complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_((a/n: I cut off a lot of smut scenes because although I have written porn without plot and stuff, it's weirder to write than to read. Enjoy though cx))  
((warnings; smut, one little tiny mention of rape that doesn't actually go anywhere it was just kind of the word I needed to use, lots and lots of swearing, idk what else. leave a comment if you need to me to put something here just in case.)) oh, and I'm not good at writing long scenes, so most of this is just a whole bunch of short, weird scenes. I guess there's not really a point to this story, I just kind of pulled it out of my ass. Enjoy._

.......

He's holding my hand.

Sure, it probably doesn't mean anything considering our activities at the moment, but it's still there, intertwined with my smaller one.

His body is above mine, sweaty and passionate and so  _beautiful._ My fingers are longer, callused, as opposed to his short and somewhat stubby soft ones. The tight grip is enough to send my mind reeling. 

"Fuck, Frankie.  _Fuck_." The words fall from his lips in a groan, his head tilting down to rest in the juncture between my neck and shoulder. I gasp as he takes my sensitive skin into his mouth, his hips forcing my body up the bed.

.......

"Could I bum a cigarette? I finished my last pack yesterday." His voice is soft, coming from next to me in the dark room. My hand brushes his as I hand him one, making me breathe out shakily. Our exposed bodies are wrapped in my thin sheet, the sweat slowly dissipating. Fuck, it's going to happen again. Like every other time, the events are thought through and are eventually disappointing. I bring my arm up to rest across my eyes.

"Do you want to stay tonight?" I breathe the syllables out slowly, one of my fingers twitching at the smell of the nicotine floating through the air.

"Not tonight, can't."  _Can't risk that._ Although I already knew the answer, my heart drops slightly at his voice. The words are practiced. It happens every time. One of us smokes after we finish, I ask him to stay, and he never does. After the cigarette is burnt out, he stands from the bed and feels around for his clothing in the dim area. They leisurely get pulled on, he glances over at me, silently asking if I'll let him leave without calling him out. My mouth is quiet. He leaves.

 _Slow._ The only way to describe my nights after he leaves. His voice stays in my head until he next speaks. It never goes away,  _he_  never goes away.

 _Love,_  some would say.

 _Craving_ , I would correct.

I don't love him. My stomach doesn't flutter when I see him, my eyes don't wander to him whenever he's near, my lips don't pull into a smile when he laughs. It's not that simple. It's not as simple as it was last time, when I fell head over heels in love with a guy and I knew it from the start. No, I cannot begin to compare my relationship with Gerard to my last actual lover. Gerard Way does not deserve to be compared to someone that loved me as a person.

.......

"Hey, Gee." I cringe as soon as the words are in the air, my mouth screwing up.  _Fuck. Why did I call him that._

"Uh, hey, Frank. What are you doing tonight? Mikey's at a party, so we could go to mine if you want?" All of our altercations are awkward, I swear to the nonexistent god. The only place we're really comfortable with each other is wrapped in sheets.

"I, uh. I can't tonight. Ray is coming over."

"Oh, okay. What would you like then?" Although his art is brilliant, it hasn't been helping pay the debts from his few years at college in New York. In conclusion, he now has to work at the little Starbucks a couple blocks from his house.

"I'll just take a Pumpkin Spice to go."

"Oh, hey Frank! How're you doing?" The youngest Way brother, Mikey, comes from the back room for the employees, tying his apron. He's been working here for about five months and he's the one that got Gerard the job. His hair is unnaturally straight, the sides fanning out a little bit where his glasses disappear behind his ears. The apron hides his Pantera shirt and his ever present black skinny jeans are just visible if you look behind the counter.

"Doing okay. Working on another record. You?" I watch from the corner of my eye as the older Way makes my drink, his gaze landing on his little brother.

"Ah, Pency Prep right? And I mean, work is work. But at least I have friends that throw parties often so I can get away from this bullshit. Everything's going good, normal." His stoic face cracks slightly, his lips turning up just the slightest bit at me.

"Yeah, Pency. Almost done with the album. Might find a new band afterwards, we're all kind of disbanding after the last few songs are finished up." My voice trails off as I'm handed my cup of sweet coffee, Gerard's hand brushing mine. I take a deep breath, making sure not to meet his eyes as I grip the drink and turn to leave.

.......

_from: fuckface, 01:57  
hey frankie. long time no talk. what are you doing up so late? sorry if you don't want me to be talking to you again._

_from: frank, 02:14  
....hey. stalking my tumblr again? and my brain is just preoccupied and won't shut off. and i guess it's okay, i'm okay with talking to you._

_from: fuckface, 02:14  
do you have anything you want to talk about? i know talking always helps you when you're thinking._

_from: frank, 02:15  
just some problems. nothing important. i can deal with it._

_from: fuckface, 02:18  
frankie, i know how you get. it's okay to talk to me about anything, and you're reblogging some pretty depressing stuff. what's wrong?_

"Fuck you." I mutter, throwing my phone to the other side of my bed. "You can't just fucking do that. You can't ignore me a year and then randomly text me like you fucking care about me. Fuck you!" What the fuck is wrong with people? They're so fucking caring and  _good_ , and then it all goes to shit and after a year they decide contact would be a good idea?

_from: g, 03:46  
hey, you awake?_

.......

His lips brush mine and I buck my hips up, pushing against him. My back is on the mattress, arms around his middle, nails digging into his back for a firm grip. Gerard lowers himself slowly, sucking across my jaw and behind my ear.

"Gerard, just-" I cut myself off, pulling him down roughly by his back. He staggers for a moment, repositioning his arms at the sides of my head. Here's the thing about Gerard; he's a gentle lover. Even if he's fucking me hard, his hands are anything but. All soft strokes and little hickeys. 

His nimble fingers are on the back of my neck and in my hair, his sweaty body sliding against mine. "Gerard,  _fuck_  me. I want bruises tomorrow." 

.......

My fingers press into the purple skin, my lips turning up unconsciously at the faint sting. He had left me again last night, some shitty excuse hanging from his lips like the cigarette in mine.

_from: g, 13:36  
hey, i want to talk. coming over at 2._

I roll my eyes and toss my phone back onto my bed, pulling my boxers back up my legs and in place low on my hips. So, I have about 20 minutes before he shows up. I guess I'll have some Pop Tarts.

.......

"What? It's not like you have a fucking boyfriend or something. If you get the pleasure to fuck me, I should be able to leave as many fucking marks I want. I  _know_  that you're fine with marks, because you loved when Bert gave you hickeys! Am I not allowed to do that?" My hands are gesturing wildly around, trying to convey my point.

He sighs, pinching the base of his nose, "Frank, you don't fucking understand. It doesn't matter that I don't have a boyfriend, what bothers me is that you are  _not_  my boyfriend and you think it's fine to leave physical reminders all over me! I loved when Bert did it because I loved Bert! He was my partner, therefore allowed to leave marks on my body."

"You fuck me on a daily basis! You invade my body and then tell me that I'm not fucking  _allowed_  to leave marks on your body? What the fuck kind of logic is that? If anything, I of all people, should be able to do something as simple as that. You gave up that rule when you started fucking me into the mattress every chance you got." My voice had risen slightly, the loud words bouncing off of my walls. Across the kitchen from me Gerard pushes himself away from the table he was leaning against, placing his head in his hands.

"Invade? You're making it sound like I rape you! You are perfectly willing every single time, and I just don't want to have marks the next day."

"I want to leave marks! Have you ever taken your head out of your fucking ass and thought about how I feel every time you come crawling to my door for a good fuck? You  _devastate_  me, Gerard. You come to me every goddamn time you're horny and then leave me alone after, every single fucking time! It'd be nice to at least feel some comfort after I open myself to someone, but, no. I'm so fucking vulnerable every time you have sex with me, I fucking trust you enough to stick your dick in me. The most I've ever gotten out of you is holding my hand during sex. That is the closest I've ever felt to you, and I find that so sad." The words come tumbling from my mouth before I can think of the consequences, finally done with all that this man has put me through, "I may have signed up for fuck buddies, but I sure as hell did not sign up for an emotionless prick who can't even stick around long enough to have an actual conversation with me. Maybe for once you could just give me a fucking hug and ask how I'm doing."

"You should have told me you felt like this sooner."

"No, you should've stopped acting like a douche bag sooner. You sound like a fucking therapist. Go home and please just don't come back unless you actually start caring for me as a person, not just a body at your disposal." The door slams behind me as I enter my bedroom, my words fading, leaving him behind in another part of my house.

I soon hear the front door close.

.......

_from: g, 02:24  
frankie i'm so sorry_

_from: g, 02:27  
im drunk and im so sorry and i miss you a lot please let me talk to you about this_

_from: g, 02:31  
i never just thought of you as a body frankie i always wanted you and im sorry that this sounds like bullshit_

_from: g, 02:58  
im going to regret texting you in the morning and you probably wont even look at these and its really cliche as fuck so its okay if you dont read this. i hate myself for making you think that youre just someone that i wanted to fuck. i mean yeah i want to fuck you because youre you. youre sexy af but youre also really cute and you were shy when we first met and your hair curls at the sides of your face and it makes your jaw look defined and i swear your eyes are different colors from different angles and i really fucking love how deep they are and its like fucking swimming in a pool of amber i stg. you hate me and thats okay because i didnt ever think you actually wanted something more than just fucking and wow now im just kind of ramblinh but i kind of  like you a lot and im sorry that i never showed it because i thought you would hate me evrn more. its gettinh hard to type so im going to sleep and hopefullu i wont remember this in the morning. om sorry frankie_

_......._

_((should I just end this here?? ))_


	2. i've done more oh no

_(IM NOW DECLARING THAT THIS FIC'S SONG IS "IS THERE SOMEWHERE" BY HALSEY BC FUCK YES THAT IS THE SHIT AND IT DESCRIBES THIS SHIT SO WELL. OKAY HOPE YOU LIKE IT BYE) (Also thank you for commenting on this story because that's what actually inspired me to write more, love you guys) (and i like, googled writing tips and shit because i don't like how i write, and we've been talking about colleges in school and the only thing i actually like is english, even though it can be a shit ton of work. let's hope i look back at this in a year and i've improved a lot.)_

"Your brother is the stupidest piece of shit I've ever known, honestly," when inviting Ray and Mikey over for some advice, Toro just happened to bring some weed, and I let my sentence float out into the air between the three of us like the smoke from the badly rolled joint.

"Oh, I know. He's pretty clueless about most things, that's why he hasn't dated many people. Not very many people can put up with him and still like him. He really does like you, though," Mikey pauses between sentences, the words falling together stiffly. His eyes are closed, his head thrown back against the sofa behind him. Mikey had ended up on the ground there, Ray pushed up into the bean bag in the corner, and I'm laying across the chair near the door. "I'm serious. I don't think I've ever seen him like this. It's kinda like when he drinks, he just looks blissed out when he comes home at night. I prefer not to think about you two fucking, but hey, it's making him happy, so," Mikey shrugs slowly, chuckling softly.

"That doesn't really help me though," I point out, passing the joint to Ray.

"Maybe you should give it a shot," he takes a puff, "At dating, I mean. I don't know, man, but you both like each other and there's really not much you have to lose, because you're not even on speaking terms right now."

"I hate that though. I hate not talking to him. Sorry Mikes, but he doesn't even talk to me after we fuck. He just leaves. It's so complicated," I groan loudly, holding my hand out towards Ray for the joint.

"Nice try, bitch," Mikey grabs it before I can, slouching back against the black leather. "And it's not that complicated. You like each other. He confessed his undying love for you through text a  _week_  ago, and you still haven't talked to him. The least you can do is call him or something. Just date already, dude."

-

_from: fuckface, 04:18_

I roll my eyes, dismissing the message at the top of my screen. Although my mind is fucked up at the moment, I scan through the text I had typed out an hour ago and bite my lip for the thousandth time. Send.

" _from: frank, 04:21_

_i had some cocaine earlier and im fucked up but im sorry. i shouldnt have said those things to you and i dont think that youre a horrible person or anything. youre a wonderful persona nd if i started talking about what i love about you i wouldnt ever stop. i want to sort things out like adults. i got myself into this mess and id like to figure out where i went wrong. call me or come over tomorrow or something. i probably wont remember texting you but the only way id be able to do this is if im like i am right now. i cant ever admit things to myself. so, ill admit this to you instead of myself because its easier. i really hate you and how pretty you are and how brave you are and how you sound like a pixie when you sneeze and your cute little nose and what you sound like when youre moaning. i fucking hate you so much because ive convinced myself that i hate you because its easier to hate your entire existence than it is to fall in love with every detail ive learned about you. goodnitght gerard, i hatr you."_

-

My clock reads reads 7:32 as I roll out of my warm bed to answer my goddamned door bell. What has this world come to? A coke-induced hungover man can't even sleep in anymore.

"Toro, I swear to fucking god, I'm so tir- oh," my eyes widen as the cold air from outside drifts in, the wind rushing around my underwear clad body. "Um, I mean, hi, I just, uh." Gerard looks sheepish, his scarf covering the bottom half of his neck, his all-black clothes as nice as ever.

"I want to talk," I inhale slowly, nodding and opening the door wider for him to come in. We sit across from each other after I close and lock my front door. "I don't want to have word vomit, so um. I'm sorry for not seeing your side here, though. I should have been more reasonable and thought about how you felt. I just, I like you, you know?" Gerard folds his hands together, slightly dropping his head down.

"You sound like a business man," he laughs at my statement, bringing his head back up to look at me.

"Says the one sitting here in his briefs," I can feel the blush spreading across my cheeks, so I stand up to try to escape to my room to put clothes on. As I rush past him he grabs my hips, pulling me down onto his lap and trapping me there. "So, Frankie," He rests his head on my shoulder as I struggle, "what do  _you_  want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about how you're openly displaying affection to me right now," I bite my lip, expecting him to throw me off of him and storm out. It wouldn't be that surprising. 

"Well, maybe I'd like to do this more often. I mean, we both like each other," his voice drops, leaning in closer to my ear, "Frankie, would you like to be my boyfriend?"

-

I sigh contentedly, leaning my head onto Gerard's chest and wiping my sweaty hands off on the sheets next to us. Surprisingly, we'd been together for a total of two weeks and haven't cut each other's heads off.

"Is it too early to say that I love you?" Gerard's voice is almost so quiet that I can't hear it, but I catch it in the silent air. My eyes widen only a tiny bit, my breath hitching slightly. "I'll take that as a yes."

"No, no, I mean- it's not that weird. And no time is too early if you're sure that you feel that. It makes sense because we were intimate before we started dating, and stuff. I don't know," I wiggle, pushing myself up to be hovering over him. "Just because it's been a short time doesn't mean your feelings are invalid. Like, maybe you've just recognized your feelings, but I haven't noticed anything and-"

"Shhh, it's okay, you're rambling," Gerard giggles, his face lighting up in the semi darkness. I smile softly, moving my arms slightly and interlacing our fingers together on the sheets. My phone lights up from the floor, and I groan, rolling onto my back on the bed. Gerard lets out a breathy laugh, reaching from the end of the bed for the device. He recovers it after almost falling off, his face red by time he comes to sit next to me again. "You have a text from.. fuckface?" I giggle at his confusion, quieting down as his words sink in.

"Oh my god, again? He won't leave me alone."

"It says,  _you should ditch whatever you're doing right now and come over. I have blow, and I can make it worth your while_ , with a winky face." Gerard's soft and open face hardens, locking my phone and looking over towards my dresser.

"Gerard? It's not what it sounds like, I prom-"

He cuts me off sharply, "Are you fucking serious?"

"He won't leave me alone! I hate him. I don't want him over you. I keep trying to tell him to leave me alone, but he still-"

"Frank, I just told you I love you and now some guy is texting you telling you to come have sex and get fucked up with him," He sighs, getting up and throwing my phone back at me, pulling his shirt over his head.

"I'm serious, he's been doing this since before we got together, and even then I told him to leave me alone. He's a sociopath. It's one of my exs and I never once thought about getting back with him. He's a horrible person, and I would pick you over him at any point." He stays silent as I explain, dressing himself and not once looking at me. "You're doubting me."

"Of fucking course I'm doubting you! I never took you to be this type of guy, but I guess I was fucking wrong. Just go take him up on his offer. Come back after you're satisfied, I don't give a fuck anymore." I trail behind him out of my room, trying to explain and tell him the truth, but he just dips down to grab his shoes and opens the door. 

"Gerard," he glares at me, slamming the door behind him and leaving me in silence. "I love you."

-

"I want to write you a song." I had just opened my front door, those first words falling from Gerard's mouth immediately. I expected him to come over sooner or later, but I thought it would involve more yelling and swearing, not this.

"What?"

"Like, one, um, one as beautiful as you are sweet. I don't know. Do you have a notebook?" My eyebrows scrunch up as he pushes past me, invading my living room.

(Yes, I'm using One Direction lyrics, sue me.)

"Do you, um, want to talk about what happened?"

"No, no, I thought about it and I trust you. I believe you. Sorry for being a cockface. Now where the fuck is a pencil?" He holds up a notebook with the front torn halfway off, smiling as he pushes past me yet again into my little office. "They're in the second drawer, right? Wait, nevermind, I found them." He barges back in and throws himself onto the back of the couch, his head on the cushions upside down. I walk over and put on my Misfits  _Walk Among Us_  vinyl, sitting on the couch next to him and watching him write furiously.

About two and a half vinyls later, he slaps the book closed and throws the pencil over his legs, to somewhere behind the couch.

"You're going to end up stepping on that at some point," I state, getting up to turn the music off. He waves off my comment, sliding his whole body down to where he's laying down. I poke his prostrate body with my toes, laughing as he groans. I sit on his back, emitting an even louder groan. "You're ridiculous. Hey," running my fingers along his spine, he shivers and mutters a  _what?_ "I love you."

"I love you too, now get off of me you fucker."

-

My phone ringing interrupts my writing, "Hello?"

"Frank, hey," I sigh, rolling my eyes. 

"Seth? I told you to stop calling and texting me."

"I'm sorry Frank, but you're kind of irresistible. I can't help it. Now, down to business. What are you doing tonight?" I swear, he is the definition of a fuckboy.

"I'm going on a date. With my boyfriend."

"Moved on so easily, really?"

"Seth,  _you_ are the one who broke up with me. You broke up with me last year, and then you started dating one of your exs. You can't say  _shit_  to me. Leave me alone." 

"Hey, tone it down, I was just kidding-"

"And I wasn't. You made me trust you after being friends for so long and then you dumped me for no fucking reason. Do you know how much it hurts to feel like you mean nothing to someone? You made me feel like I was never enough for anyone. I spent weeks trying to get away from you because every time I saw you I would have a panic attack. I'm fucking serious, leave me the fuck alone. Don't talk to me, don't go through my social media, and even if you so much as see me in public, I want you to fucking walk away. I don't deserve to beat myself up over you anymore." I inhale sharply, holding down the power button on my phone and turning it off. I pick up my notebook from my lap, placing it on the coffee table in front of me with the pencil I was using. My legs curl in towards my chest and I wrap my arms around them, resting my head on my knees.

A few hours later, I hear my back door opening through my half conscious mind. My head twitches on the pillow under me, meaning I tipped over at some point but I had stayed curled up into myself.

"If you're a robber you should go away because I'm too tired to deal with your shit," I manage to push out. It might have been a whisper, might have been a shout, but I wouldn't know because my mind is too tired to function properly. My fingers twitch as the smell of nicotine drifts in from whoever had opened the door.

"Well, it's good that you're not dead. I was beginning to think that you were," it takes me a few seconds to recognize Gerard's voice without opening my eyes, and I smile softly. "Any reason you didn't answer your phone, shithead?"

"I turned it off," I mumble out. I reach towards where his voice is coming from, pulling on him when he interlaces his fingers with mine.

"Ah. Well, since I didn't have a date planned anyway and you look too tired to do anything, do you want to just eat ramen and watch Netflix?"

-

"You're getting on my fucking nerves lately, you know that?" The words are mumbled, the older man hunched over his threadbare notebook. He had been insistently moody lately, and I could only glance up from my phone, once again hitting decline on  _another_  call from Seth. I had been sitting on the couch, opposed to my cave man of a boyfriend who had perched himself on my coffee table.

"Excuse me?" I reach forward, poking his eyebrow and getting a murderous glare in response.

He rolls his eyes, a small smile quirking up the corner of his lips. "Hand me my shading pencil, please," I make a big deal of picking the utensil and placing it on his sketchbook, right in the middle of the strange looking character he had scribbled. "Oh, fuck off. You know I love you. Don't be a shit head."

"That's all I needed to hear," I smile, standing and kissing him gently on the nose. "I'm going to head to bed. Maybe," I lean down, whispering right next to his ear, "If you hurry up we can squeeze in a shower to make me fall asleep even better," I look over my shoulder as I walk out of the room, winking and giggling. I hear him mumbling, so I stick my head back around the wall. "What was that?"

"You're going to be the death of me, Iero."

 


End file.
